I was glad to be so soon understood, and took it from my pocket book—­but holding it a little back, as she offered to take it.

“For your majesty alone,” I cried; “I must entreat that it may meet no other eyes, and I hope it will not be looked at when any one else is even in sight!”

She gave me a ready promise, and took it with an alacrity and walked off with a vivacity that assured me she would not be very long before she examined it; though, when I added another little request, almost a condition, that it might not be read till I was far away, she put it into her pocket unopened, and, Wishing me a pleasant ride, and that I might find my father well, she proceeded towards the breakfast parlour.

My dear friends will, I know, wish to see it,-and so they shall; though not this moment, as I have it not about me, and do not remember it completely.(224)

435

My breakfast was short, the chaise was soon ready, and forth I sallied for dear—­once how dear!—­old Chesington!  Every step of the road brought back to my mind the first and most loved and honoured friend of my earliest years, and I felt a melancholy almost like my first regret for him, when I considered what joy, what happiness I lost, in missing his congratulations on a situation so much what he would have chosen for me—­ congratulations which, flowing from a mind such as his, so wise, so zealous, so sincere, might almost have reconciled me to it myself—­I mean even then—­for now the struggle is over, and I am content enough.

John rode on, to open the gates ; the gardener met him and I believe surprise was never greater than he carried into the house with my name.  Out ran dear Kitty Cooke, whose honestly affectionate reception touched me very much,—­“O,” 436

cried she, “had our best friend lived to see this day when you came to poor old Chesington from Court!”

Her grief, ever fresh, then overflowed in a torrent and I could hardly either comfort her, or keep down the sad regretful recollections rising in my own memory.  O my dear Susan, with what unmixed satisfaction, till that fatal period when I paid him my last visit, had I ever entered those gates-where passed the scenes of the greatest ease, gaiety, and native mirth that have fallen to my lot!

Mrs. James Burney next, all astonishment, and our dear James himself, all incredulity, at the report carried before me, came out.(225) Their hearty welcome and more pleasant surprise recovered me from the species of consternation with which I had approached their dwelling, and the visit, from that time, turned out perfectly gay and happy.

My dearest father was already gone to town; but I had had much reason to expect I should miss him, and therefore I could not be surprised. . . .

I left them all with great reluctance:  I had no time to walk in the garden,-no heart to ascend the little mount, and see how Norbury hills and woods looked from it!